


Alive

by TheVoidless



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Depression, Explicit Language, Frenemies, I'm beginning to like this POV too much, POV Second Person, Tom's POV, complicated relationship, looking at Tom and Tord's relationship, probably a bad thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 11:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18365000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVoidless/pseuds/TheVoidless
Summary: Edd and Matt leave Tord and a drunk Tom alone one night. Instead of their usual fighting, Tord questions their relationship.





	Alive

“What would you give to feel alive again?” The question comes out of nowhere. Probably from the trash can of random thoughts from your brain. You smile lazily as you collapse next to Tord. You get comfortable on the living room couch from where your body landed.

It’s one of those nights when you’re getting shitfaced, and Tord has that melancholy expression resting on his face like a veil that inched out from his skull. Edd and Matt were out on some trip, but you were too busy picking what bottle of Smirnoff you’d drink that night to listen.

“To feel alive?” Tord runs the words through his smoothly accented voice, mulling over the question. He leans back from across from you on the other side of the cushions. The mute TV screen emits a faint glow over his face. “You say that like I want to.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Okay, let’s assume you do.” You better milk this while he’s in a good mood.

A flash of light shines over his eyes, and he pauses. His eyebrows furrow, but quickly releases all tension as he grins and presses further into his seat. “Maybe a million dollars,” he says jokingly.

“One million,” you snort. “Just a million?”

He meets your eyes in slight confusion, and his grin falters testingly. “Yeah, sure. Why? What would you give?”

You turn towards the blinding light of the TV as it transitions to white. Color floods back on the screen in a scene soon after. You shuffle down a bit to rest your head back, and you say more seriously, “Everything, I guess. I mean, life seems pretty meaningless without it. And if it takes everything I have now to get that, then...” Your words drift off the bottom of your chapped lip. They hang from the ceiling and grab a hold of the air that envelopes the both of you in a still trance.

Tord doesn’t say anything for a while. Neither do you. The silence nearly becomes sickening as you watch an ad you don’t care about roll across the screen in front of you. The fake enthusiastic voices echoed indifferently in your ears.

You take another swig of your alcohol that burns your throat. You used to wish the liquid would just stay there and choke you.

Sometimes, the emptiness was too much.

You see Tord’s head swivel towards you, and his face is full of something you don’t recognize. “Tom? Are you… okay?”

“What?” You say drunkenly. Shit, you must’ve said that aloud.

“Why are you telling me this?” His voice nearly sounds pained, and you feel like you’re the confused one here.

“Why am I telling you what?” Feign ignorance. Brilliant idea, Tom. 

Tord makes a frustrated noise in his chest and he stops talking, shaking his head and looking towards the front door as though Edd and Matt would crash through at any moment. 

“I just don’t get it, Thomas.” He’s using your full name. You’d typically snap at him for it, but you’re too drunk to care. “I don’t get you. I don’t get… us.”

That piques your interest. “What do you mean, us?”

Tord heaves a heavy sigh, sinking impossibly further into the couch. He’d surely leave an impression after he’d get up. “Like, are we enemies or what? Why do you act like you hate me in front of Matt and Edd, but when they’re gone and you’re drunk, you’re just… Just this.” He gestures at your form wildly from his spot, and now he nearly sounds desperate. “Why do you tell me shit about yourself as if we were friends?”

That last one strikes you right in the stomach, and you feel sick. “I guess we’re not,” you say coldly. You continue to sit there for a few tense seconds. Then, you gather whatever energy you had left, and you force yourself to get up. Before either of you can think to say anything else, you’re already gone. Back to your room it was.

You reach your bed when you realize you left your bottle of Smirnoff. Normally you’d grab another from the stash in your bedroom, but that had been the last one in store.

You definitely did not want to go to sleep with that conversation clinging at your thoughts, so you had no choice but to go back for it. You figure since it was late, you could wait until Tord left the living room and you could go for it.

So you wait.

And wait.

It was just around the ten minute mark when you had already lost your patience. “Fuck it,” you mutter to yourself as you open your room door and step into the living room.

You notice the TV is still on and glowing faint images onto the furniture. Tord is still there, and you see he’s got a really intense expression carved into his skin before he sees you. It then turns into something more uncertain.

Neither of you say anything as you snatch the bottle from the small side table and head back. It’s not until you reach your door that Tord clears his throat.

“Hey,” he calls to you as your hand rests on the door handle. You’re both surprised as you stop to listen. He takes the hint, and continues, “I’m… sorry.”

“Me too,” you say. You’re not even sure if it’s loud enough for him to hear, but it’s all you leave before you open it and shut the door behind you with a resounding thud.


End file.
